


Floor Show

by Morgana



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, Object Insertion, Objectification, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy performs for Angelus and his boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floor Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snogged/gifts).



The crunch of bones shattering on the other side of the wall woke her up. For a long minute, she lay as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe in case she attracted the attention of whatever was out there. She could heard the grinding of the thing's teeth as it devoured whatever unlucky prey it had caught, and for once she was grateful for the thick walls that kept her safe from the outside. She lived in a nightmare here, but out there was a hell of the worst kind.  
  
A key scraped in the lock just before the door opened and a vampire peered inside the cell. He was one of the young ones, his presence barely registering at all on her senses. “You're wanted upstairs,” he stated. She got to her feet and started towards the door, taking a grim sort of satisfaction in how quickly he drew back as she approached. While she might be weak and underfed, reduced to a toy for the new Masters of Sunnydale, she wasn't completely harmless, and it was good to see that the minions, at least, remembered and respected that.  
  
She followed him upstairs to the master bedroom, waiting until his knock had been answered with a call to come in before she slipped past him to go inside. Nobody was allowed in here except for the Masters, their food... and her. Not that she wanted to be here, either, but what she wanted had ceased to be a factor in her life long ago.  
  
They were already in position - Angelus seated in the large, throne-like leather chair he preferred, with Spike seated on the floor at his feet, head leaning against his knee. One hand stroked the bright hair that was slowly darkening to golden; Angelus preferred his boy in a natural state, as he often proclaimed, and Angelus' wishes were commandments now. “About time you showed up,” he growled at her. “Look, boy, our little Slut has decided to grace us with her presence.”  
  
A muscle ticked in her jaw, but she didn't say anything, just bowed her head, averting her eyes from both the brown and blue ones that were turned her way. Her name had been one of the first things to go, stripped away along with her freedom and what little innocence she'd still possessed. She did her best to fight against it, to remind herself who she was, but she knew deep down that it was a losing battle. One day she'd finally give up completely, forget she'd ever had a name besides the one Angelus had given her and come to think of herself as the Slut he now called her, and she could only hope that she lost her mind or life well before that happened.  
  
“Well, don't just stand there, Slut. I know you're stupid, but even you should realize what I want. Now strip!”  
  
His voice cracked along her back like a whip strike, and her hands flew up undo the rope belt around her waist as soon as the command was given. As she untied the knot and let it drop, then pulled off the simple tunic that was way too big for her. When she was nude, she put her hands behind her back and waited for the next order. Those first few months, she'd fought and tried to hide her body from their eyes, but she'd quickly learned how futile her efforts were. She wasn't going to fight the losing battle anymore - not when fighting had cost her almost everything.  
  
Angelus watched, his eyes glittering with a feverish possession that had nothing to do with seeing her naked and everything to do with watching her obey his orders without protest. “You can start with your tits - or at least, what passes for them on you.” His gaze slid dismissively over her body. “Slayers just never seem to have a decent pair of tits,” he observed.  
  
Like always, the mention of her less than generous curves stung, and she tried to remind herself of how often Spike had praised her breasts, called them a 'perfect mouthful', and spent hours driving her crazy with his fingers and mouth. Her eyes flicked over to the blue ones that watched her, seeking some sort of sign that he remembered, some silent disagreement with Angelus, but they simply stared back at her, empty of any of the feeling that they'd once been so full of.  
  
“Now the bite marks, and take your time with them,” he ordered shortly.  
  
Her hands slid down to caress the puckered scars that dotted her thighs and hips, the remnants of night after night just like this one. Just like always, she sucked in a sharp breath as her body reacted, nipples tightening and damp heat forming between her thighs at the light touch, the reminder of pleasure and pain beneath the twin gazes that watched her now. They never touched her neck, and without being told, she knew they were waiting, keeping it clean for the night they killed her.  
  
Angelus waited until he could smell her arousal clearly before he reached for the smooth wooden shaft that was always kept on the table by the chair. He tossed it to her and she caught it without thinking, fingers wrapping around it just as they had countless times before. The second it touched her palm, she was aware of two things - the sweet sense of rightness that came with finally being complete and knowing her purpose in life, and a burning arousal that made her knees weak. The first had been with her ever since she'd first picked up a stake, but the second... the second was purely a result of her captivity here, and she knew he knew it. Knew it, and gloried in it, almost as much as he did her humiliation.  
  
She clenched her fist around the wooden stake, smoothed to a satiny finish and lacquered for preservation, and glared at him, hoping her contempt and hatred showed through, but if they did, he gave no sign of it, just met her eyes with a level gaze and asked, “Well, Slut? Get going, or we're likely to start getting bored. And you know what happens if we get bored...”  
  
A shiver worked its way up her spine as she remembered the last time they'd gotten bored. It had been Dawn that time, and they'd nearly killed her before she finally gave in and performed. Dully, she wondered what would happen when there was nobody left for them to kill - would they finally turn on her, or would she be so broken by that point that she'd willingly do whatever they asked? Shuddering at the thought, she brought the stake up and turned the point towards herself, flinching as she always did when the rounded tip touched her nipple for the first time. She wished she had the strength to shove it home, had thought about doing it more than once, but she couldn't. Not yet, not until she knew if... but those thoughts wouldn't help her do what she had to now. Doing her best to turn her mind off, she closed her eyes for a few seconds as she teased first one nipple, then the other, with the stake.  
  
The first time she'd been brought here, handed the stake, and ordered to perform for them, she'd refused, horrified at the very idea of such perversity. Rape she'd been ready for, and fangs slicing her throat open as well, but not that. She'd thrown it down on the floor, practically daring them to do their worst, and they had. But not to her. Angelus was too canny for that - he'd had Xander dragged in and forced her to watch as all the tortures and degradations she'd expected were visited upon her friend instead. When she'd been unable to listen to his screams any longer, she'd picked the stake up and obeyed the first order, and they'd finally stopped. Images of her friend's broken and bleeding body had stayed with her for months before she'd learned to lock them away, along with any hope of rescue or release.  
  
“Enough.” The barked command pulled her out of her thoughts, and she shivered as she realized that her nipples had drawn tight, peaks rising eagerly against the wood. “On the bed and spread your legs, Slut. Let's see what you really like to do with that stake.”  
  
Her cheeks burned as she crawled up onto the bed and turned around to settle on her back, opening her legs to bare herself to their gazes. She slid her free hand down to stroke her exposed sex, fingers doing their best to coax a little more moisture from her body before she had to debase herself in the worst way possible. Finally she knew she couldn't delay anymore, and she drew the point of the stake down over her stomach, moving down and down until the tip pressed against her clit.  
  
The jolt of pleasure that shot through her was immediate, and she tried to relax and think about anything besides the watching vampires or the reality of her captivity as she began to use the stake to tease herself. She circled around her clit, feeling herself get truly wet as her body responded to the familiar caress. It didn't matter that this wasn't really Spike, that it was wood and not flesh, not when she remembered all too well what that particular little tease used to mean. It was always the precursor to mindblowing pleasure, and so somehow, without meaning to let it happen, she found she'd been trained until she couldn't help reacting, like Pavlov's dog - or rather Pavlov's bitch, she supposed.  
  
Was this what he had intended, when he used to do that right before he used fingers or tongue to make her come until her ears rang from her own screams? Had he known what he was doing, had he planned this somehow, or was this one of Spike's plans gone horribly wrong, like so many of them had? She doubted she'd ever know, and right now, with the stake gliding easier over her flesh as she used it in ways it had never been intended, she couldn't bring herself to care. Not with her heart starting to beat faster and a flush rising into her skin that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with Spike and the things he'd taught her during those long afternoons and nights in his crypt.  
  
Angelus laughed when she moaned and began to rock up into the thrusts, then glanced down at the head that rested against his knee. "Enjoying the show, boy?"   
  
He didn't answer, of course - he never did. He hadn't said a word since they'd gone below the high school to face The First in what they'd all believed would be their final battle. She still remembered the desperate sound of her name on his lips when his amulet activated, still heard in her dreams his despairing scream as the jewel they'd thought would save them turned on them instead. Spike had been held prisoner by its light, made to watch the Scoobies fall around him while he was held immobile, forced to be a helpless witness to the rise of The First. She wondered if he still sometimes saw Angelus stepping out of the shadows, laughing and applauding their efforts before he claimed them both as his price for helping The First, or if his mind really was the blank slate it appeared to be.  
  
In the early days of their captivity, she'd believed him immobilized by shock and grief, and she'd waited for the day he would regain his senses and rise against Angelus to save them both. But as night after night had passed, and weeks turned slowly into months, which were in turn giving way to years, she had to face the fact that the Spike she'd known, the Spike she'd loved, was gone forever. His mind had broken under the brutal care of his sire, or else retreated so far inside himself that he was locked in a silent prison from which there was no escape. She hoped it was the latter; she hated to think of her vibrant vampire being completely eradicated. Much better to believe that he was still in there, perhaps dwelling in a world of his own creation where Angelus was still souled and they'd beaten The First. She hoped there was a place for her in that world, that they laughed and patrolled and loved there, and when Angelus finally got tired of his games, she hoped she'd be allowed to go there with him.  
  
"Look at the Slut, boy - can't get enough of that stake, can she?" Angelus jeered, but the taunts were common enough that she was able to shut them out and concentrate on the way her breathing was getting harder, her body twisting of its own accord, hips rising up to seek more of the stake as she worked it rapidly over her clit. "Perfect whore; I can see why you wanted her. Who wouldn't want a slut like that? Come on, Slut, show us what that stake does to you. No stopping until you show us how much you love it."  
  
She didn't know why he did this, why she was commanded to come repeatedly every time she was summoned, but she wished he'd stop. It would be so much easier if she were just made to lay down and take whatever they did to her, if she were allowed to remove her consciousness and allow them to do whatever they wanted to her body. Even this forced performance, this participation in a sick sex show, would have been bearable if she weren't brought to orgasm over and over, writhing under their eyes like the whore she knew they believed her to be.  
  
“Let's see you come, whore. Now!” And just like that, she shook and gasped, writhing and bucking up against the stake. For a few blessed seconds nothing mattered, not the vampires or the hell that had taken over the world or her own enslavement. The only thing that existed was the sweet relief that swept through her like a piercing fire.   
  
Hard on the heels of pleasure came a burning awareness of their eyes on her, and to her shame, it aroused her all over again. Angelus knew, of course - he always did, and she'd learned not to try to hide it, since that only made him mad. She could have lived with that if he took his anger out on her, but aside from the bite marks, she was untouched. Someone else paid for her defiances, so she did her best to keep him as happy as she could.  
  
"Still not satisfied, are you, Slut?" Angelus goaded. "Whores like you never are until they've had a good fuck, are they?"  
  
She whimpered, but didn't say anything. The first time he'd said that, she thought he was going to rape her, that she would finally learn what had driven Drusilla mad, and when he hadn't, she'd even asked about it, only to hear him laugh and tell her that he wasn't about to risk picking up whatever diseases a filthy whore like her must have. Not that he didn't still enjoy taunting her with the possibility, though.  
  
"Come on, Slut. We know you need a hard cock inside you, that it's all you think about. Can't get your brain out from between your legs and your need for it, can you?" She shook her head, but he ignored her. "Go on, girl, give yourself what we all know you want - you've got a nice cock right there in your hand. Fuck yourself with it."  
  
How she wished she could be anywhere but here! She'd cry out to the heavens if she thought it would help, but whatever gods might exist had turned their backs on humanity long ago, so she had only one option, and that was to obey the sadist who now owned her. Flipping the stake around, she spread her legs a little further, then drew her knees up and planted her feet on the bed. She stroked the base over her folds to get it wet, and when she couldn't delay any longer, began to push the stake slowly inside herself.  
  
Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend it was Spike, that it was his cock she could feel herself stretching around, his low moan of pleasure drawing one of her own out as he pressed slowly inside. They'd only made love like this a few times before, usually too caught up in the heat of the moment to savor it properly, but every time they'd managed to control (or exhaust) themselves to that point, it had been beautiful. She wished now that she'd let herself fall in love with him sooner, that she hadn't fought it so hard, because then there might have been more of those times, more slow lovemaking filled with tender kisses and soft caresses instead of just the wild sex that had pleasured her body but left her soul aching for more.  
  
She managed to take a little over half the stake before she had to stop. When Angelus didn't argue with her, she shifted her hips, wiggling a little to get used to the full feeling, then began to pull back, falling instinctively into the familiar rhythm of sex. She kept the thrusts small at first, small movements that helped push her arousal up another notch, before she began to truly fuck herself with the longer, more visible thrusts that sent the gleaming length of wood sliding in and out of her body with a slick, wet sound.  
  
“Don't stop now, Slut,” Angelus' voice had gone low and rough, the way it always did when he got excited, and she knew that if she were allowed to sit up and look over at him, she'd see the hard thrust of his cock rising from his lap, his hand moving over it as he watched her degrade herself in ways she'd never thought possible before she'd become his slave. “Show us what a nympho whore like you really needs.”  
  
She arched her hips up, pushing the stake in deeper, angling it so it rubbed against the spot deep inside that only Spike had ever found, the one she hadn't even known was there until he showed her. Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend that it was him inside her, his cock driving into her, taking her closer and closer to a madness she couldn't escape from. She thought about his eyes watching her intently as he taught her to fly beneath him, his husky voice urging her on, about the tight lines of his face as he struggled to hold his own climax off, always trying to make her come again -  _one more time, pet, just once more, for me_ \- before he gave in and joined her in bliss.  
  
One hand slid up to claim her breast, fingers plucking at her nipple the same way Spike used to worry it between his teeth. She could feel another orgasm rising, feel herself starting to tighten around the wood, and she knew they could smell it, but this close to coming, she didn't really care. The scent of musk and sex was a familiar one, both here and back in Spike's crypt, and as she thrust the stake in and out faster, she let herself drift back there, to his low groans, his adoring gaze, always slightly stunned, as though he couldn't really believe she was there with him, and she flew over the edge, climaxing with a shaking moan, her entire body arching nearly off the bed with the force of it.  
  
Angelus groaned and for a second, she wondered if he'd come along with her, but a furtive glance at him showed how wrong she was. He was hard and glistening, his hand running over his dick, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to cut things short, so she braced for still more to come.  
  
He didn't disappoint her. “On the floor,” he grated. “Kneel down, and if you're good tonight, you just might get to suck one of us off.”  
  
It was a lie, of course. She was never allowed to do anything like that - not that she wanted to go within twenty feet of Angelus, anyway. But to touch Spike again... even if she had to suck Angelus to do it, she knew she would. Not that he'd let her; she was dirt as far as he was concerned, and he wasn't about to have her do anything but feed his childe, but the promise, or at least the potential, was enough to compel her forward to kneel in front of them with something almost approaching eagerness.  
  
Angelus dragged Spike up off the floor, pulling him into his lap as his hands worked feverishly at the buttons on the black jeans. She saw his hand moving beneath the denim, coaxing the unresponsive flesh to full life before he pulled the hard shaft out. When he was satisfied that his childe was erect, he urged him to his feet and stripped the jeans off, then yanked him back down, positioning him so he could both thrust against his ass and work his cock at the same time. Somehow it all worked like a perfectly choreographed ballet, one that she couldn't help but find arousing.  
  
The bastard knew that, of course. Once he had Spike arranged like he wanted him, he nodded at her with a smirk. “Go on, Slut. Show my boy what kind of whore you really are.”  
  
She leaned forward and reached behind herself to position the tip of the stake between her heels, wedging it tightly to keep it secure, then sat up and bit back a moan as it sank deeper. While the vampires above her watched, she rose up and sank down, slowly starting to ride it. The stake, soaked with her juices, had begun to swell, and it twitched inside her, almost like there a real cock. She bit back a moan and raised her hands to cup her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples as she rode it, offering up a show for the man she loved, the one who'd given her the world, and the creature that had taken it all away again.  
  
Tilting her head back, she looked into vivid blue eyes, the blankness in them breaking her heart and comforting her all at once. He didn't have to be here for this, her beautiful, bold, courageous vampire, who had walked right into Hell itself for her - he didn't have to watch this, didn't know the depths to which she'd sunk. It was a small mercy, but one she was grateful for. For now, she thought of other days, better times, when she'd stared into his eyes as she rode him to one shattering climax after another, and she pretended that she was back there now, that the eyes that gazed unknowingly at her were filled with light and heat and love, and she moaned as she rocked back and forth on the stake.  
  
Angelus watched her with an almost approving gleam in his eye. He stroked Spike, thrusting up against him, working them both towards the inevitable conclusion of the night. “Look at her boy, look at the Slayer whore of yours fuck herself on her own stake,” he growled. “I want you to see the kind of filth you dirtied yourself with.”  
  
She watched the slow slide of his hand along Spike's cock, the droplets that welled up reminding her of how often she'd lapped them up, the way Spike had groaned and begged for more. She'd loved the power that sucking his cock gave her, loved the knowledge that she could reduce him to goo with her tongue, loved the stream of dirty talk that always let her know he was getting close, loved the way he tasted, all salt and musk and male - loved everything about it, really. And somehow Angelus knew that, knew it and used it against her, like he did everything else.  
  
“Bet you wish you could have some, don't you?” he taunted her, swiping his thumb over the head, gathering the liquid up there on his skin. “Little Slut wants to suck cock, can't get enough of it, isn't that right?”  
  
When she didn't answer, he extended his hand until his thumb was nearly brushing her lips, bringing it close enough that she could smell Spike on him. “Isn't that right?” he demanded.  
  
“Yes!” she blurted, grinding back down against the stake.   
  
Angelus smiled and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Want it, don't you, Slut?”  
  
“Yes,” she admitted raggedly. If she could just taste... she'd go right over the edge, and she wouldn't care what he did about it. Her legs were beginning to tremble as she got closer, and she tried to slow down a little, hold off so she could stay here a little longer. She understood Spike now, knew why he'd prolonged their time together as long as he could, because now she did the same thing. Just a little more, a little while longer to look at him, to drink in being able to be so close, even if she couldn't touch him the way she really wanted to...  
  
But Angelus knew her tricks to well. He pulled his hand back and began to stroke Spike's dick again, the wet sound of flesh on flesh shooting right to her core. “Come on, Slut,” he commanded. “Show my boy what the sight of his hard cock does to you.”  
  
A sharp cry escaped as her body's natural instincts took over. She slammed herself down on the stake, her legs shaking with the force of the climax that swept through her, aware of the eyes that watched her so keenly with every second. She rode it out as best she could, never looking away from the hard, gleaming shaft that she wanted so desperately.  
  
When it was over, Angelus gave her just enough time to catch her breath before he pushed Spike off his lap and barked, “Back on the bed and on your back.” He got to his feet and pulled Spike along with him, drawing him next to the edge of the bed.  
  
The stake inside her shifted as she moved, rubbing along her inner walls almost painfully, but she hadn't been told she could take it out yet, and she knew better than to do so without permission. Once she was in position, Angelus got to his feet, pulling Spike with him as he approached the bed.  
  
They were positioned like dolls, arranged for his pleasure in a sexual display, and she caught her breath when she felt cool air wash over her. Even in his catatonic state, Spike still breathed, and the soft exhale stirred the wet curls between her thighs, reminding her of how frequently he'd paused to do just that before he drove her out of her mind with his tongue. God, his tongue! He'd been every bit as skilled as he'd said he was, but more than that, it was his unabashed passion that had driven her crazy. Knowing he loved it every bit as much as she did had been a turn on that she hadn't believed existed until Spike showed her exactly how hot it was.  
  
But there was no tongue that would follow this breath, no mouth that would descend on her and thoroughly ravage her, only an even breath that never faltered, even when the mattress was depressed by her head and the body above hers jolted. There was a wet, slurping sound, and she stifled a sob when she heard Angelus groan as he shoved his way into his childe's body.   
  
A heavy silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the harsh grunts of the vampire as he fucked his childe over her. Angelus didn't talk during this part, and the lack of speech brought it all into nightmarish clarity - the rhythmic movement of Spike's body, the shadow of Angelus' balls and the glistening dick that vanished and reappeared at the very edges of her vision, the broad hand that moved down to close around Spike's erection, stroking him in time with his sire's thrusts.  
  
Despite herself, the movement and sights and sounds began to arouse her yet again, and she found herself beginning to rock with them, picking up their rhythm, her thighs clenching tight around the stake that invaded her. The cool breath over her sex teased her with the possibility of contact, although she knew it would never be allowed, and as she heard the slap of skin upon skin speed up, she held her breath as the marks upon her thighs began to burn.  
  
“Ohhh Christ,” Angelus groaned. “Fuck... now, boy!” He shoved Spike forward with a low moan, and she knew he was coming, but there was no time to take advantage of his momentary distraction, because Spike was following right behind him. Lukewarm fluid splashed over her chest and throat, the tepid drops burning like ice against her skin.   
  
A heartbeat later, fangs sank into her upper thigh and as her fourth orgasm of the night swirled up to pull her down into darkness, Buffy finally screamed.


End file.
